


this is why we've got to touch (sometimes words are not enough)

by iPhone



Series: remember the day [3]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Jealousy, Pregnancy, Romance, Smut, all the good things in the world, love yall xoxo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Chloe's jealousy manifests differently than most people's, she thinks. It's born out of the fact that she can't remember specific parts of her life. She's so grateful that Beca is always more than willing to reassure her that they're right where they're supposed to be.





	this is why we've got to touch (sometimes words are not enough)

**Author's Note:**

> So I received at least five requests, some signed, some anon, asking for a Chloe interaction with Kommissar within this universe. I think people were primarily curious about how this would turn out, especially if Chloe didn't remember anything about DSM specifically.
> 
> I took a liberty and combined this with a request for pregnant!Chloe and pure smut. So here you go. Some kind of fluffy mess, I guess!
> 
> Title of the fic is from "Beautiful" by Bazzi. The one with Camila Cabello because I love that remix so much.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support for this universe. I'm consistently touched and amazed. I love you all!

Chloe fiddles with her wedding band, a nervous habit in order to alleviate nerves. She still finds herself a little apprehensive when meeting new people, lest a memory bubbles into existence when she least expects it. She supposes she’s fairly safe here – it’s not like there are too many a capella people at this event, with the exception of herself, Beca, and Aubrey.

They‘re at an event – a benefit to raise money for art and music programs in high schools and middle schools in downtown Los Angeles.

Being married to Beca makes for an exciting life, Chloe supposes. Their date nights, as often as they occur, are never really the same too many evenings in a row. One night, it might be an award show. Another night, driving to the nearest In-N-Out and stuffing take-out in their faces. 

Chloe smiles proudly as her wife stands on stage, delivering a speech about the rewards of having strong music programs and how her own college experience was shaped by a capella itself, though she looks a little sheepish as she says so. Chloe laughs at that, noting how shy Beca gets when it comes to talking about her own life experiences, even if she is still pretty much revered in the collegiate a capella scene.

“Who would have thought?” Aubrey comments. Chloe turns to smile at her long-time friend, grateful to have some company while Beca finds herself otherwise occupied. Aubrey is there on her own merit, mostly due to generous donations to the foundation and her own active part in continuously contributing to Barden’s music department.

Chloe allows Aubrey to clink her glass against her own – water for herself, wine for Aubrey – and smiles at how far they’ve come. Nearly two years after their wedding night and Chloe finds herself happily married. As well, she’s bubbling over with additional nervous excitement at the thought of starting a family with Beca Mitchell. Unconsciously, her hand drifts to her belly, seeking the comforting presence of the bump, just a bit more present than a few short weeks ago.

“Everything okay?” Aubrey asks, eyes alight with concern at Chloe’s sudden contemplative silence.

Chloe thinks that she’s never been happier.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s only about thirty minutes after Beca’s speech when Chloe’s good mood takes a sharp turn.

Beca leaves her side briefly to pick up a snack for them to share. Chloe had insisted on doing so herself, but Beca had immediately gestured at her to sit down.

“I know you two haven’t told too many people yet, but she’s making it fairly obvious,” Aubrey states, maneuvering around the chairs to sit next to Chloe.

“It’s cute,” Chloe defends. She fiddles with her dress. “Can you tell?” she asks, somewhat self-consciously.

“You look beautiful,” Aubrey says gently. “Trust me, that dress is doing you all kinds of favors and you can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed that Beca has barely been able to keep her hands off you.” 

Chloe raises her eyebrow at her friend’s honesty. “Did you down another glass of champagne?” 

“A little bit,” Aubrey admits, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. “No, but seriously, I’m happy for the two of you. I know that you both went through a lot to reach this point and I’m not just talking about picking a donor. You know.” She gestures.

Chloe nods absentmindedly, hand floating to her stomach. Her eyes drift over to Beca, spotting her instinctively. She admires the low cut back of Beca’s dress, resisting the urge to sigh at how smooth that expanse of skin is.

Her line of sight is interrupted when a hand smoothly places itself right on Beca’s back. Chloe quickly follows the offending hand and sees that it is attached to a very beautiful, very tall (if the way she towers over Beca is any indication) woman. Her hair is blonde and loose around her shoulders, with a sinfully beautiful dress painting her body. Chloe blinks and does a double take at the sight.

“Who is she?” she asks, so quietly that Aubrey nearly misses the question.

Aubrey glances around. “Who?”

Chloe gestures a little helplessly, unsure if she needs to stand up at all.

Aubrey’s eyes catch the light in Chloe’s eyes before she turns to scan the crowd again. Aubrey blinks, twisting to look around Chloe’s body to search for Beca. Her eyes land on Beca standing by the food, accompanied by a vaguely familiar blonde-haired woman. They appear to be engaged in a casual conversation. Aubrey frowns, blinking at the recognition she feels, though she can’t quite place it-

Then, as suddenly as the recognition comes, she remembers with startling clarity exactly who she is and why she feels a sudden spike of disdain. Realization settles in that Beca had declined to mention anything about the Bellas’ brief rivalry with DSM, but she supposes that it likely had slipped Beca’s mind as well. Still, she vaguely recalls Chloe’s previous annoyance towards this woman – the same woman who had once seemingly rendered an unflappable Beca Mitchell a stuttering mess of hormones and attraction. She swallows. "That's just Beca and some a capella alum," she says, though it’s with hesitance. “DSM, I believe. They’re talking,” Aubrey says, somewhat unhelpfully.

Chloe can’t recall ever seeing this woman before, let alone hearing about an admittedly beautiful, tall, blonde a capella cohort member. "I see that," she says tightly. They still haven't separated. Though now Beca has broken eye contact to look at the contents on the snack table. "What are they talking about?" 

"I don't know," Aubrey replies honestly, and she doesn’t care to speculate. Though, she can’t find it in her to lie to her best friend. “You should talk to Beca.”

She tightens her grip on her glass, taking care not to shatter it completely. This reminds her of how out of her element she had felt when she had first seen photos of Beca with random artists on her label and the attractive, younger interns here and there. Granted, she had felt possession primarily, with the occasional spike of jealousy. However, the foreign feeling she feels here is a distinct territorialism, which is frustrating because she genuinely doesn’t recognize this woman at all. As well, she _trusts_ Beca without a shadow of a doubt, and she knows Beca is committed to her.

And yet, Chloe has never felt more like a high schooler or doe-eyed freshman in college.

But this isn't then. Chloe is an adult. She has grown into her own self not once, but twice. This is now. Now, she is married to the love of her life with a precious baby on the way.

And yet, Beca is— 

Chloe's insides boil with rage as the blonde's hand runs along Beca's forearm in a way that can only be described as “teasingly” or even “flirtatiously”.

Beca jerks back, to her credit. She doesn’t linger or falter.

From this distance, Chloe doesn't hear the exchange, but she doesn't miss the uncomfortable expression Beca adopts and her gesturing. Chloe flushes when the mystery blonde’s eyes swivel up, directly latching on to Chloe with both amusement and assessment in her eyes. Though, something softens in her then when her eyes meet Chloe’s and Chloe can’t help but shake off the feeling that she’s not part of some inside joke. Still, Beca maintains an air of professionalism that Chloe recognizes from having watched Beca network over the years and they part amicably.

Aubrey is too quiet through this whole exchange, and fidgets a little nervously, brushing against Chloe accidentally. Chloe jumps, having forgotten that Aubrey was there at all.

Chloe turns to face her. "What did I just see?”

"It's…complicated. Maybe."

“Is it?” Chloe challenges.

Aubrey merely raises an eyebrow in response and wisely takes a sip of her drink before responding. “It’s something to talk to Beca about, I guess.” She sighs. “Speaking of.”

"Hi baby," Beca’s voice sounds from behind her. Chloe turns to find Beca’s eyes trained intently on her, holding out Chloe’s requested plate of fruits. Chloe softens marginally because she loves how Beca’s cheeks are gently flushed from a mixture of light alcohol indulgence and mingling with a variety of people, young and old. It’s nice to see Beca relaxed and carefree, especially when her day job requires such high levels of attention and stress.

Beca frowns at Chloe’s silence, walking closer still. Chloe thinks how unfair it is that Beca looks so damn good in that dress, especially when Chloe had to take special care to pick out a dress that didn’t accentuate her newly acquired curves.

“What’s wrong, Chlo?” Beca asks, picking up instantly on the shift in Chloe’s mood.

“Nothing,” Chloe murmurs quickly. She pulls Beca towards her with a hand, offering a half-hearted smile.

"Beca, were you just talking to that DSM woman? What’s she doing here?" Aubrey asks, glancing carefully between Beca and Chloe.

Beca settles back against Chloe’s side, a hand finding its way around Chloe’s waist. "We were just catching up," she replies. “It’s been a while. I barely remembered her. I guess she’s here for the benefit?” Beca looks wholly unconcerned. “She’s still based in Europe, I think.”

Unexpectedly, all of that makes Chloe stiffen, mostly because she feels like she’s missing something important. "Looked like a fun conversation," she comments quietly, accepting the small plate of sliced fruits that Beca hands her. 

It doesn’t quite register in Beca’s brain the exact tone Chloe uses, but she chalks it up to the one and a half glasses of champagne she’s had so far. It’s then that recognition flashes through her and she swallows, half nervously and half guiltily. “Oh,” Beca says quietly. “She was just this…captain of an a capella team we faced when we were back at Barden. 

Instead of pushing it further, she kisses Chloe’s cheek gently. “I love you,” she murmurs against Chloe’s warm skin.

At this, Chloe’s lips twitch into a smile and she turns her head, leaning in to kiss Beca softly. “I love you, too,” she says against Beca’s mouth.

The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch, though it nags at the back of Chloe’s mind as she chats with a few people here and there – that beautiful, tall blonde and her easy familiarity with Beca as if they were friends.

And, more dangerously, as if they were more than friends.

Beca catches sight of Chloe a few paces down. She can’t resist the easy smile that graces her face upon seeing her, a wholly natural reaction, especially when Chloe looks exceptionally radiant tonight.

“Ready to go?” Beca asks, making her way back to her wife. She smiles at Aubrey who is shrugging on her own jacket. She holds a hand out for Chloe to pull her in for a quick kiss. She’s pleased to feel Chloe’s instant, comforting response, having been a little concerned about their earlier conversation.

“Yeah,” Chloe responds. She picks up her bag, lacing her fingers with Beca’s.

“Nice to see you again, Tiny Mouse,” comes from a faintly accented voice to Beca’s left. Chloe and Beca turn and Chloe startles upon seeing the same woman from earlier. Chloe hoists her bag strap further on her shoulder, taking in how much taller this woman appears in person and feeling vaguely inadequate, though she’s not sure what it is about this woman that irks her.

She’ll start with the nickname. “Tiny Mouse?” she mutters to Aubrey, who has joined her in watching Beca shake hands – very professionally and nothing more – with this woman.

Aubrey places a comforting hand on her shoulder, which does anything but comfort her.

Beca returns to her side, naturally curling a hand into the curve of Chloe’s elbow.

Chloe’s not jealous – not really. After all, she hardly knows this woman and Beca doesn’t seem to care either way. 

And yet, Chloe cares. So much. She just hates that she can’t place _why_.

“Let’s go home,” she murmurs in response to Beca’s questioning expression.

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe replays the entire interaction, embellishing here and there, she’s sure, but it can’t be helped. Not when the streak of possession runs white hot through her, setting her aflame.

It is simultaneously ridiculous and overwhelming because all it serves to remind her is that she has loved Beca in two seemingly separate lives and she’s still learning how to reconcile the two, even though they’re married and well –

Her mind spins with a million thoughts, even as Beca’s hand slides over her thigh in the car, a seemingly comforting gesture, though the way Beca leaves two lingering kisses, soft and slow, against her neck and then her cheek – it seems to indicate she’s gunning for something more when they get home.

Chloe shifts at the thought, trying to let it take over, but all she can see is Beca’s limp handhold in that woman’s hand – the way Beca’s eyes had flashed with something a bit more than professional recognition, visible even from Chloe’s vantage point.

The amusement in her eyes when she had seen Chloe, who was sure her own eyes were reflecting only confusion and lack of recognition at all.

“Who was she?” Chloe asks, unable to help it any longer. She lasted about twenty minutes.

Beca hums, putting her phone down and angling her body towards her. “Who?” she repeats, questioningly.

“The – that woman who came up to us when we were leaving. You were talking to her earlier in the evening, too.”

Beca frowns, seemingly sifting through her memories of the night. It clearly hasn’t weighed as heavily on her mind as it did for Chloe, which is to be expected, she supposes. Beca must meet a hundred different people from all these events.

“The tall, imposing blonde,” Chloe says, a little irritably, though she’s not sure if she can place _why_ she feels this way. Only that she feels justified in being jealous. The cycle of frustration continues to run through her – the reminder that she still has so much to learn about Beca’s life – though this feels like it runs like a deeper thread.

Still, she’s not sure how she wants Beca to respond exactly. Enough to placate her for the time-being, though she’s not sure what she _wants_ Beca to say or do.

Instead, Beca says, very softly, “Oh, _her_.”

For some reason, the two syllables strike a chord in Chloe and, while it’s not quite the memory that floats to the forefront of her mind, a million and one hypotheticals flicker through her mind’s eye and all she feels a white-hot jealousy.

She can see, somehow, in vivid clarity, an image of Beca laughing with this woman, holding her hand, and just _being_ with her.

While those actions in themselves are not particularly striking, it’s the happiness she sees in Beca’s eyes – the ones conjured up by her imagination; that happiness is palpable, even from the distance Chloe is afforded.

What if there were curious glances?

Subtle touches?

Cuddling during a movie night?

Stifled laughter at something embarrassing like the brush of their hands?

Vividly, with each hypothetical, she can see it in her mind. They are invasive by nature, but mostly because she feels compelled to claim those memories for herself. She feels simultaneously well-acquainted with this woman and yet, like they are complete strangers.

She wrenches her eyes shut and does her best to will away the jealous what-ifs.

That's all they are: jealous what ifs. Jealous what-ifs, conjured by her partitioned memory – the two halves representing the memory she has of Beca now and the memory she has of Beca _then_.

_Get it together, Chloe._

But, still-

“Did you date her?” she blurts, not wanting to face Beca because she’s mortified at her own mouth.

“Oh God,” Beca says, jolting in her seat as if the question is so jarring and unexpected. It makes Chloe’s mouth twist into a half-grimace, half-smile. “No, definitely not.”

Still, Chloe can’t find it in her to smile, not when she feels remnants of emotions that she’s not even sure she’s allowed to have because it’s just another memory that she’ll never have. And yet…

“I mean, okay,” Beca says, breathing out noisily when she takes in Chloe’s neutral expression. “You’ve met her before, alright? Just. When we were at Barden. She was on a competing team.”

“I know,” Chloe mutters. “You mentioned that.” She doesn’t want to know the answer to this, but, “were you attracted to her?” she asks slowly, unsure as to why it makes her heart pound excessively.

“I was confused,” Beca admits after a long pause. She looks visibly uncomfortable and upset. “Chlo, I promise that it didn’t mean anything. I was overwhelmed by a lot of things, especially the fact that I was realizing – very slowly – that I was falling in love with you. Or that I already was in love with you.” 

Chloe swallows. “Beca,” she says softly. 

“But, clearly you won,” Beca points out unnecessarily. “I married you.” She winces. “That’s not what I meant,” she says softly. “I just…nothing ever happened, okay? Nothing would ever have happened because I never wanted anything from her. I have only been in love with you.” 

Chloe is silent for a moment before she heaves a long sigh. She reaches out to touch Beca’s hand gently, tracing the cool metal band adorning Beca’s finger. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about her? You’ve had almost three years.” 

“Chlo, there were way more important things than reminding you of some member of a German a capella team.” Beca bites her lip before tentatively reaching a hand out, this time to rest gently on Chloe’s stomach, palming the very slight bump that has begun to show – though it’s only really visible to people who would care enough to look closely. “Like this,” Beca says, with reverence in her tone – reverence that is reserved for Chloe Beale-Mitchell and now, their baby. 

Chloe bristles, but the effect is lessened because Beca’s care and attention only makes her love Beca more. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about her? You’ve told me countless stories about Barden,” she says softly, hating how insecure she sounds. “If she was so important,” she mutters. 

Beca sighs, taking her hand off Chloe’s body and resting it primly on her lap. “Chloe,” she says gently. “I just told you why.” 

“I’m sorry,” Chloe apologizes, hating how out of her element she feels. She had come to terms with what she could and could not remember a long time ago, but these flare-ups and blips are still as jarring as ever, especially one as striking as somebody who invokes such an unexpected bout of jealousy from within her.

“No, don’t apologize,” Beca says immediately and sincerely. “I’m sorry too. I can’t really make excuses. I just…lose track, sometimes,” she admits, and it’s tinged with guilt and embarrassment. The pain leftover from the accident, even though it is years behind them, still lingers heavily over them. It had been there when they had gotten married. It had been there when they had been contemplating having children and what exactly would be within the limits of what Chloe could and couldn’t do.

It lingers over them now, even when everything has seemingly fallen into place. Just because Chloe’s life feels in place doesn’t necessarily mean that things fell into place neatly. She’s still coming to terms with the mess of things and how to live with that – though she suspects she’s going to be living with that for the rest of her life.

The tight feeling in their chests lessen considerably and Chloe tilts further into Beca’s body and fixates on the buildings they’re speeding past. She likes the comfort she gets from how nice Beca’s perfume smells – pear and freesia – as well as the gentle tickle of Beca’s hair against her shoulder.

And Beca, well, she’ll blame the mildly intoxicated state, but her reaction is sudden and visceral. She all but swoons – a little belatedly – at the sight of Chloe’s mildly angry state.

"You're so hot when you're jealous, Chlo,” Beca murmurs, shifting herself closer to her wife, secretly delighted.

"I'm not jealous of _her_ ," Chloe says, punctuating it with an exaggerated scoff. Beca can see her pout, even in the dim lighting of their car.

Beca shifts closer to Chloe, taking in the determinedly focused expression of her driver before gently kissing at Chloe’s ear. Leaning back, pleased, she notes that Chloe’s cheeks are flushed so obviously that they’re visible even to Beca’s eyes. “You’re so cute,” Beca whispers, honestly and maybe a little teasingly. 

“Shut up,” Chloe mutters, though it lacks bite and anger. She smiles.

"Babe," Beca says, more seriously to direct Chloe’s attention to her. Once her favourite eyes latch onto her face, she smiles as lovingly and gently as she can, bringing a hand to Chloe’s thigh while the other dips just behind Chloe’s neck to pull her in for a gentle, albeit passionate kiss. She moans softly when Chloe responds immediately, her tongue swiping out stroke at Beca’s lower lip with expertise and sureness that never fails to make Beca tremble in anticipation. Still, Beca’s on a mission and she sighs quietly when she pulls back, resisting a smile when Chloe chases her, trying to steal another kiss. 

“Bec,” she says softly – so softly that it almost sticks in her throat. Chloe feels a flush – separate from being overwhelmed by the night's events – ripple up her body.

“You know I’m yours,” Beca says and that alone is enough to send heat right between Chloe’s legs. Just when she thinks she can hold off just a little longer – at least until the next stoplight, Beca’s eyes seem to darken. 

“You’re mine,” Chloe repeats, hypnotized by the intensity in Beca’s eyes. She leans in, pulling Beca in for a crushing kiss, trying to pull at her as best as she can. Beca’s lips are pliant and willing, sensual in how tenderly they move against Chloe’s. When Chloe pulls back, she gently brushes her fingers across Beca’s cheek before thumbing Beca’s lower lip, smiling at the slightly askew lipstick. “ _Mine_ ,” she murmurs, gently wiping the smudge away.

Beca is breathing a little heavier, and contemplates what to say. “Just as much as you’re _mine_ , for the rest of our lives,” she says, so breathlessly that it makes Chloe’s own chest ache. The possession in Beca’s tone is blatant and it makes Chloe blush at how primal it sounds, but the way Beca says it makes it still, amidst everything, completely enshrined in how in love with her she is.

 

* * *

 

 

Chloe dozes off the rest of the ride back to their home. Beca sobers up, growing tired, but only marginally. 

Beca is content to tilt her head against Chloe’s, mind still buzzing with the night’s events. Sometimes she honestly forgets that there’s a part of their life together that is a blank void for Chloe. She has simply grown so accustomed to happily being in love with Chloe that she lets it slip her mind, if only for a moment. 

But in reality, Beca has nightmares about it sometimes – about whatever image of twisted metal melding with Chloe’s injured body – and it leaves her shaking and breathless because she had thought about what it might have been like to _truly_ lose Chloe; about what it would have been like if fate had been more cruel to them both. 

She thanks her driver, offering a small smile, before coaxing Chloe out of the car. Her previous simmering arousal has died down significantly and she gently helps Chloe out of her shoes before doing the same for herself.

“Bed?” she suggests, as they make their way into the master bathroom.

Chloe nods, making quick work of washing her face and putting on an oversized t-shirt. Donning similar attire, Beca tries not to stare at the expanse of Chloe’s legs poking out from beneath the shirt, but she can’t help herself an obligatory once-over, especially when Chloe smiles at her knowingly. 

“We can talk tomorrow,” Chloe suggests, her voice slow and lined with sleep and something more. 

“Okay,” Beca agrees. “Hold me?” 

Chloe complies eagerly, unsure if she’ll be able to do so comfortably in the near future. She tucks herself behind Beca, holding her close. Beca tries not to think about how wonderful Chloe feels against her. Holding Chloe’s forearm against her, Beca resigns herself to dozing off when she feels soft lips press against her neck, then again to her ear. The kisses are too purposeful to be goodnight kisses. Beca feels more alert and she briefly wonders if this is a trap. 

"Chloe." 

"Beca.” 

“I thought you were tired,” she says slowly, letting her body naturally wake back up so it can respond accordingly to Chloe’s advances. She whimpers as a slick tongue darts out to bathe her flesh. "Maybe _I'm_ trying to sleep." 

"Why would you try to sleep now?” Chloe asks, slipping a hand up Beca’s shirt to cup her hip. 

"Maybe I'm tired," Beca says cautiously. “Going to benefits are a lot of work.”

"It must be hard,” Chloe agrees, hooking her chin over Beca’s shoulder. Her finger tips dip just barely beneath the waistband of Beca’s underwear, causing both their hips to shift restlessly. 

“Hello,” Beca greets, tilting her head back to meet Chloe’s lips in a mildly uncomfortable kiss. She twists a bit more so she’s lying on her back, but still nestled in Chloe’s arms. Chloe uses her ankle to tug Beca’s legs open a bit further. 

They kiss languidly and slowly for a moment, just taking in the intimacy of it all. 

Her lips return to Beca's neck, licking, sucking, biting, though always gently and tenderly. Apparently, people in the music industry take notice of things such as hickies, so Chloe takes care not to mark Beca’s neck too much. While kissing Beca’s neck slowly, Chloe’s fingers crawl over her wife’s abdomen to trace the soft contours she finds there. She hisses out a pleasurable breath when Beca’s hand dips under body to curve around her waist and grip her ass firmly. 

Beca shivers and swallows thickly when Chloe pushes up her shirt even more, exposing her skin to the cool air. The air does nothing to her heated skin overall, because Chloe has somehow managed to get her aroused and heated in the blink of an eye. She recalls vividly how she had imagined what it would be like to pull Chloe into her body and fuck her, either at the benefit itself or in the car – Beca hadn’t been picky, but there had been more pressing matters to attend to. While the cloud still lingers at the back of Beca’s mind, Chloe’s advances are very much welcome at the moment. 

Chloe whimpers into her ear, nearly rubbing herself right on Beca’s hip and thigh. “This is okay, right?” she asks, breathlessly.

Beca swallows and nods. “What do you want?” she asks softly, pulling Chloe’s body closer. She twists, so her lips meet Chloe’s again. She raises her other hand to rake through Chloe’s hair, running her fingers through the gentle knots she finds. “Tell me,” she murmurs.

Chloe’s body is thrumming, running high on hormones and emotions. She can feel how sensitive everything is, like every inch of her skin is only just adjusting. Chloe feels like she will never be able to hide how attracted she is to Beca, especially not when her body is moving of its own accord. The fabric of her shirt rubs against her already sensitive nipples and she sighs, curling a hand into the fabric of Beca’s shirt. “Off,” she murmurs. She tugs off her own shirt while Beca complies and does the same with her own. Chloe pulls Beca back into her orbit, eyes falling shut at the sensation of skin against skin, her hips rocking back into Beca’s body.

“What do you want?” Beca repeats, adopting a tone she reserves only for Chloe and only for the confines in her bedroom. It makes Chloe’s eyes flutter shut and she pushes her nose into Beca’s neck, allowing Beca to twist and face her fully. 

"You know what I want, Bec,” Chloe whispers, dropping the second syllable of Beca’s name. “Please don't make me beg." She feels out of her mind; out of her body. Chloe is _sure_ she has more self-control than this. Just an hour ago, maybe more, she had been out of her mind with jealousy, and yet, Beca’s assurance and resilience still shines through in every situation, only making her fall for her harder every day. 

Holding Chloe’s hips, she forces them to roll so that Chloe is sitting astride her thighs. Biting her lip, she can see how aroused Chloe is, mostly by the way her body is flushed and on the verge of trembling. She helps guide Chloe into a gentle rocking motion. The feeling of Chloe’s soaked underwear against her skin triggers an answering moan to leave her lips as she takes in Chloe’s expression. A soft grunt leaves Chloe’s lips and her hands immediately slide up to cup Beca’s breasts a little roughly.

"What if I like that?” she questions, returning to her previous line of thought. She smooths a hand up Chloe’s stomach and opts to rest it teasingly between her breasts. Chloe exhales noisily at the action. Beca feels her own breathing halt momentarily because Chloe’s eyes are glimmering. “What if I like it when you beg, just a little bit?" she pants out. In response, Chloe’s fingers come together to pinch her stiff nipple. Gentle at first, then a bit harder, eliciting a strangled whine.

Never one to back down – for which Beca is grateful – Chloe rocks her hips once more. "Fuck me," she groans, pitching forward so that she’s hovering right above Beca’s face. "Be _ca_. _Please_ , baby." 

Beca's thighs clench together as the nickname is breathed right against her already-sensitive ear. Her right hand blindly reaches up to tangle into Chloe's hair. "Tell me,” she states, drawing out it. She moves her left hand to cup Chloe’s ass, aiding her movements. 

Chloe moans at the sensation of Beca’s fingers pulling at her hair. “I need you." 

Beca groans at the desperation in her wife's voice. Mind made up, rocks up and twists. She turns over again, feeling her core strain with the force she needs to exert. She pins Chloe into the bed and kisses her thoroughly, taking care to not completely crush Chloe’s body with her own. 

She loses all playfulness then, only wanting to make love to her wife – something she has wanted to do all night since she saw Chloe in her dress. Tugging briefly at Chloe’s lower lip, she lets her teeth scrape at the soft flesh before she smiles comfortingly at Chloe and sits up. 

Beca marvels briefly, as she drags Chloe’s underwear down her legs, at how Chloe’s body has changed. It still makes her heart skip whenever she thinks about how blessed she is to be able to call Chloe _hers_ – her wife, her partner in crime, the mother of her child. Just past the thirteen week mark and Beca has never been more attracted to Chloe _and_ her body. 

Unconsciously, her eyes drift to Chloe’s midsection. The same familiar happiness washes over her at the thought what it had been like to hear their baby’s heartbeat for the first time, let alone what it had been like to _see_ it. 

“I love you,” Beca whispers with sudden emotion. Her fingers trail up Chloe’s side, lingering for a millisecond on faded scars. “I love you so much.” 

Chloe’s chest heaves with the same emotion and she nods, almost desperately. “I love you, too. Now get up here,” she says, hand curling into Beca’s hair and tugging. She spreads her legs further to accommodate Beca’s body between her legs. She frowns when she realizes Beca has yet to take off her own underwear. “Off,” she pleads. “I need to feel you.” 

Beca kisses her once to placate her and hastily shoves her underwear down her legs. She eagerly presses her body into Chloe’s once more and they both moan quietly at the sensation. Well aware that her wife’s body is sensitive and more aroused than usual, Beca takes care in trailing her fingers up and down Chloe’s sides, applying just the right amount of pressure to her favourite spots. 

Chloe’s body responds to Beca’s without fail. Every single curve of Beca's body molds so perfectly into her own. She arches in a desperate, lust-driven attempt to get closer.

"I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met," Beca whispers, lips moving languidly down Chloe’s neck. She heaves a sigh, hips moving slowly against Chloe’s lower body, working her up further.

“I-I am?” Chloe asks, trying to keep her eyes open. She digs her fingertips into Beca’s back, gasping out when Beca’s fingers work their way between her legs, searching; exploring. “Oh my God,” she whimpers. Beca’s index and middle finger expertly glide across her clit repeatedly – rhythmically maybe – very nearly causing her eyes to cross. She swallows, reaching for Beca’s thigh as best she can to both hold her closer and help enable the gentle rocking of Beca’s hips. She can feel how wet and _warm_ and swollen Beca feels against her thigh, which is one of the most intoxicating feelings she can recall. 

She never put much stock into the notion that pregnancy would send her hormones on overdrive, or the idea that her libido would kick in often, but she thinks that this is very much something they could both get used to. 

Her thoughts stop abruptly then because without further preamble (read: teasing), Beca’s pointer and middle finger are gently easing their way inside her in what Chloe can only describe as a completely leisurely fashion. 

"You are," Beca says, with an achingly quiet tone. “Gorgeous. Inside and out. I’m so lucky that you’re mine.” Her breath grows heavy, fingers curling. “I’m so lucky that you’re carrying our baby.” 

And as suddenly as Beca’s fingers are expertly stroking at her inner walls, they disappear and Chloe all but cries out in frustration. 

She maneuvers her leg over Chloe's thigh, slotting her other leg as firmly as possible against the wet flesh between her wife's thighs. A strangled moan falls from Chloe's lips as her hips shift and rub leisurely against the firm limb pressed against her intimately. She feels like she’s collapsing further into her pillow as her head tilts backwards, so Beca takes the opportunity to lift up, resting heavily on her arm. Chloe can feel warm puffs of Beca’s breath against her cheek before she rises further. 

The way Beca’s eyes track down her body as best as she can only stokes the fire. She bites her lip at the sight of Chloe's flushed skin and undulating hips. Her gaze rakes across her torso, the heat of which makes Chloe’s desire spike even further. 

Chloe's entire body quakes as she thrusts steadily against the thigh firmly between her legs, sliding her aching clit against the strong, unyielding, and impossibly smooth skin of Beca’s leg. 

Her hands instantly tangle in long brown curls, fisting as many strands as she can because she needs an anchor of some kind. 

Anything, really, at this point. 

Beca dips her head back down to kiss her firmly, lips slotting perfectly against Chloe’s. It’s a wet kiss, just the barest hints of tongue, and yet imbued with so much passion that it makes Chloe want to cry.

"Bec," she whines out breathlessly, when Beca draws back, only to press her lips against Chloe’s neck, just beneath her jaw. Beca moans wantonly against her heated flesh at the nickname, before tilting her head further down to encase Chloe’s nipple. She flicks her tongue determinedly against straining flesh before pulling away with a harsh exhale.

The desire Beca has for her, no matter how many times they've done this now, is still enough to stoke the flame that erupts somewhere in Chloe's chest.

Chloe thinks, briefly, about how unfair it is that Beca somehow manages to look so attractive even while slightly flushed and sweaty. She’s so ridiculously in love with this woman; sometimes the thought makes her want to cry, other times it makes her want to combust on the spot. It’s verging towards the latter, she thinks. The way she flips her hair over her shoulder as she curves up above Chloe’s face is absolutely maddening. 

Beca doesn't seem to have the same qualms, adopting a confidence that Chloe feels was stolen straight from her because all she can do is struggle to breathe while Beca works her over expertly. She smiles down at Chloe, her hand slipping between her legs again.

“Wifey,” she all but purrs, letting her hand wander freely.

Chloe moans, partly in agony, as the action causes Beca's thigh to fall away from between her legs. She feels empty, suddenly and all but squirms to tug Beca's body closer to hers.

She’s so fucking close.

She _had been_ close.

Now she just feels swollen, and almost uncomfortably wet. Not to mention she feels hot all over, a reminder that her body seems to be running a degree or two warmer than usual. Beca only adds to that reminder when she gently runs her fingertips over the skin on her stomach, a now-frequent habit of hers since Chloe first started showing nearly two weeks ago. "Please," she whimpers thickly, unable to find it in herself to feel self-conscious about begging. “Beca,” she whispers, somehow managing both syllables of Beca’s name.

Beca’s eyes soften and darken; her eyes become less filled with amusement and more with love – so filled to the brim with love that Chloe’s throat tightens with emotion. A softer whimper escapes her. She curls a hand around Beca’s neck to pull her down for a searing kiss.

Beca's tongue instantly slips inside her mouth to stroke against hers causing Chloe’s hands to fist into Beca’s hair. She arches into the body above her, trembling with sheer desire when her nipples meet Beca's. Her hand glides down Beca's torso to rest between her legs with ease, groaning at the abundance of wetness that greets her. Beca thrusts quickly against the hand between her legs, parting from Chloe’s mouth to pant heatedly against her neck.

"Together,” Beca says in a shaky tone. “I want to come with you, baby.”

Chloe can agree to that.

She hisses when Beca thrusts a little a harder, her hand working overtime between Chloe’s legs. Vaguely, Chloe thinks she blacks out and only just remembers to curl her fingers, eliciting a throaty moan from Beca.

Chloe thinks that this will never get old. Not just sex, because she’s sure she will always enjoy that with Beca, but just the feeling of feeling so close to the one person she trusts more than anybody. She curls an arm around Beca’s back, holding her as best as she can because the urge to protect Beca rises up as suddenly as the white-hot spike of pleasure when Beca adds another finger to the mix.

It definitely makes her eyes cross this time, and Chloe gasps out a breath, vaguely wondering why she ever cared about another woman in Beca’s life. Not when Beca Mitchell makes her body absolutely sing _like this_.

But, Chloe’s not going down without a fight – not before she makes Beca see fucking stars. She presses her thumb as best as she can against Beca’s clit and uses her free hand to grasp blindly at Beca’s ass, digging her fingers into the pliant flesh. God, she loves Beca’s body.

Beca’s rhythmic rocking stumbles and the sound that escapes her is absolutely sinful. It’s a half-grunt, half-whine that, when paired with the other noises echoing around their bedroom, almost makes Chloe blush.

Almost.

She’s so close that she doesn’t even care anymore. The only phrases she really knows how to say are Beca’s name and variations of “I love you” which she intersperses.

Beca’s vocabulary doesn’t seem to be faring much better, for all the bravado and confidence she had earlier. “Fuck,” Beca curses quietly against Chloe’s neck. It sounds strained, even muffled against her heated skin. Her teeth scrape against Chloe’s collarbone, not really biting, but rather lingering in a tantalizing fashion. 

The sound of small whines and whimpers trapped in the back of Chloe's throat alerts Beca to the fact that she's close.

"Shit," she cries out, upping the pace of her own fingers. She loves how Beca feels around her, a sensation that she’ll never tire of. With Beca's inner muscles squeezing the way they are it's making it harder. 

"You're beautiful, baby," Beca groans, a little out of left field. 

Chloe opens her mouth to say something – thank Beca maybe? Tell her that _she’s_ the beautiful person. Instead, when Beca’s fingers curl in her, against her, all Chloe manages is a strangled grunt that tapers off into a whine. 

"Yeah," Beca asserts, taking Chloe’s non-response as a good sign. “You’re the most beautiful p-person I’ve ever met. Ins-inside and out – oh-oh God. I only want you.” 

Her arm wraps around Beca as familiar warmth envelops her body. "Come, Bec," she moans. "With me.” She can’t manage full sentences, not when her brain feels like it’s shutting down, one area at a time. 

"I'm trying,” Beca grunts out, body nearly crying out from the exertion and stimulation. A ripple of pleasure spikes up her spine unexpectedly and she all but curves into Chloe’s body, whimpering. 

Chloe pulls her down with the arm wrapped around her, thrusting harder and faster. She stills her hand, letting Beca just feel the presence of her hand, her fingers, and _God_ , the way Beca absolutely clenches around her. "Oh, fuck," Beca whimpers. "I'm coming, Chlo.” Chloe’s breath stutters in response. “I'm coming,” she repeats, her voice cracking on the last syllable.

Chloe buries her face into her favourite neck, muffling her cry as heat spreads through her from head to toe. She trembles, her body arching into Beca’s even more than she thought possible, and she feels another whine bubble from her throat, though it verges more towards a sob. Beca seems to stiffen at the sound, her back tensing under Chloe’s hands. 

When they both finally calm down and Chloe thinks that the pleasure spikes have become manageable, Beca kind of slides off her body and to the side, prompting Chloe to curl right into her instinctively. 

Equally instinctive, Beca’s arm curls around her and tugs her close, both of them stiffening as the sensation of their bodies sliding against each other makes for another spike of pleasure. Still, Beca’s hold is protective above all and it calms them both enough for their breathing to even out. 

Chloe sighs quietly, burying her face in Beca's neck – one of her favourite places to hide away from the world. Even as she presses against Beca’s body, she can feel the changes in her own body – how it’s not the same familiar fit. It only reminds her of how much they have to look forward to. 

Chloe kisses the slightly damp skin of Beca’s neck before kissing the underside of her jaw tenderly. "Thank you, baby," she whispers. 

Beca seems to find amusement in that. She tilts Chloe’s head up to meet her eyes. "For the sex?" She asks, only grimacing when Chloe’s fingers pinch at her stomach quickly. 

“No,” Chloe murmurs, unable to resist a smile against Beca’s neck. “Just. For everything. From the beginning to end.” 

Beca swallows at that, knowing that Chloe means _everything_ – from the beginning of their story to whatever end they’ve signed up for. She knows not to expect an end anytime soon, just that they’re in this together. 

Forever, if Beca has anything to say about it.

 

* * *

 

"I'm so glad you chose me," Chloe whispers, stroking the skin above Beca’s eyebrow. Beca blinks sleepily up at her, on the verge of falling asleep, but still desperately holding on to every word Chloe says. Chloe doesn’t know how it’s possible to continuously overfill her brim with love. “Because I’m so happy that I get to love you every day. I know I was crazy. A little bit,” she murmurs slightly stiltedly. “Tonight–“ 

“–You weren’t,” Beca promises through a yawn. She sighs, cuddling into Chloe’s side, relishing the feeling of soft skin tightly pressed against her own body. 

Chloe heaves a short laugh against her, pressing her lips as best as she can to what she assumes to be Beca’s forehead, but the mess of hair gets in the way. “I was a little jealous,” she concedes.

“Which is normal, considering everything,” Beca points out. 

“Which is normal, considering everything,” Chloe allows, eyes softening even further. “But still, considering everything, you still chose me.”

“Choose. I still choose you. No matter what,” Beca murmurs, tilting her head to press a kiss against Chloe’s throat.

“And I’m so grateful every day,” Chloe whispers, feeling her own eyelids grow heavy. Beca tucks herself even closer, weaving her leg between Chloe’s so they’re pressed intimately together once again. “I love you, Bec. I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too,” Beca replies after a moment, soft and quiet in the increasingly heavy air. 

And as Chloe’s brain finally gives her the go-ahead to fall asleep, she hears Beca’s last murmured assurance against her skin, as quiet as a breath.

“There was never a choice, I promise. You’re it for me.”

Chloe falls asleep with the promise of an entire lifetime ahead of her, knowing that she’ll remember everything about _this_ in the morning.


End file.
